


Disposable

by N0nb1narydemon



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, The hellhound is named for the pun it has no deeper meaning than that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N0nb1narydemon/pseuds/N0nb1narydemon
Summary: Eric is disposable. That's what he's always been, even WHO he has always been. Hell, he doesn't even officially have a name in the story he's a part of.Even a demon would have some anxiety about that. In the days, weeks, and months past the apocanope, things haven't really changed for the self-duplicating demon. Life is still literally Hell, and he's still getting thrown to the hellhounds when a Duke (or a pit fiend or anyone else really) feels like checking to see if the hounds are still aggressive enough.But today is Eric's lucky day. A call to the hellhound cell block takes a turn for the best, and the disposable demon and the disposable hellpup he's tasked to destroy may just be each others saving gr- well, saving something.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), but mostly as a background thing, this story isn't about them
Comments: 37
Kudos: 72





	1. Taking out the Trash

**Author's Note:**

> So, be warned I describe an anxiety attack here in as much detail as I could manage without setting my own off, hah. If that's something that's going to be upsetting for you, this may be a story to avoid. I do intend on delving into Eric's anxiety issues as I perceive them, so it's gonna be a consistent topic of the fic.

Here's the thing about hellhounds. They're bred to be big, mean, nasty creatures. Lesser demons of Hell, they're meant to live and die in violence. Breeding them is as dangerous as anything, as two worthy hellhounds are as likely to kill each other as do what's needed to make a litter of hellpups, and those hellpups have to be separated from the birthing parent pretty much immediately lest they be devoured by said parent or their own litter mates. It's a hellhound eat hellhound world down there, but there's at least one reprieve for all these basically cannibalistic hounds- a hellhound who dies in hell just gets put back in the rotation to be in the next litter. It takes being killed on earth to really end the cycle of a hellhound's soul-adjacent-being. Feeding the hellhounds is a dangerous task, one the disposable demon finds himself saddled with all too often. And even though it's usually one of his doubles who gets eaten (he is a foolish demon but not a complete fool- he's managed to stay alive this long), it still  _ hurts _ . 

Upon receiving a summons to the hellhound cell block for a job, he cringes (internally, remember reader he isn't THAT foolish) and makes his way through the dank, dark, crowded halls of Hell, dodging some elbows and failing to dodge others. 

When he arrives and the taskmaster doesn't immediately shove a bucket of (unfortunately not so) Mystery Meat into his hands, he makes the mistake of feeling actual, genuine relief, but Hell isn't a place where such a thing lasts. 

"You, scrap, take this-" the taskmaster says, roughly shoving a black lump of dog into the disposable demon's frightened arms. "Up to earth, and kill it. Useless mongrel, get out of my sight." 

Though he had promised himself he would work on asserting his name more (now that Armageddon had been cancelled by Crowley and that angel friend of his, that seemed a thing he might be able to do), Eric was at the moment much too occupied with the absolute terror of having a hellpup in his arms where it could very easily turn and begin the process of devouring him, and this form was no double- he hadn't had time to miracle up some duplicates. He could probably do so now, but that would require his mind to be able to process anything more than Panic and Complete Task Before You're Discorporated Or Worse You Foolish Disposable Demon. So with that, he ran. Through the halls, dodging far fewer elbows (none who saw the hellhound held half over his shoulder wanted their limbs within a mile of All That), until he got to the hellevator which promptly emptied itself of the other two demons who'd been in the mood for an earth level jaunt. He quickly set the hellpup down and punched the "up" button (there was only one) and plastered himself on the wall farthest from the pup. It took… several moments of staring in abject terror to fully realize, as the doors finally closed, that the pup was just… sitting there. Panting. Tongue lolling out of one side of its mouth, pointed ears relaxed and pointing in every direction but up, butt planted firmly on the ground and hind legs only barely registering that they are part of an animal-shaped-being. The tail was the most confusing part of all. It was flopping lazily, making a repeated  _ thud thud thud thud _ on the elevator floor. 

They stared at each other for the entire ride up to earth level, Eric in terrified yet confused silence, the hellpup in Happily Vacant Puppy. 

The doors opened at last, and Eric wished he could just get it over with right here, escape the confusingly quiet but certain to become hungry any moment hellhound and get back to his drudgery, but he would need a good distance from the H&H building to be sure the killing took, and he'd need to be away from prying human eyes unless he wanted to draw another kind of unwanted attention for killing an animal in the streets. So, steeling his resolve, Eric drew himself up from his corner and slid around to the elevator exit. 

"Um. C-come, hellhound."

The pup tilted its head in confusion, seemed to take several moments to process the order, then stood and plodded along after him. Eric jumped back instinctually, but the hellpup didn't seem to be planning to eat him at the moment. Weird… Well, for the moment Eric wasn't going to look a Gift-Not-Getting-Discorporated in the mouth. 

With the hellhound plodding at his side, Eric made his way through London, winding along city streets (a few people made remarks about his 'puppy' needing to be on a 'leash' but he had no idea what that meant so he just kept walking). He found himself following a river that got wider as it went along out of the city. He followed it until he could barely see the other side for the early morning fog, and his feet found soft earth and green grass instead of pavement. He walked along for a while, the solitude of the place feeling oddly comforting to the demon who'd grown accustomed to feeling isolated in a crush of irritable bodies and low lights. All along, the hellpup walked along beside him, hardly straying more than a few feet away to sniff a rabbit hole or to leap joyously over a log. As they made their way along, an old wooden structure (some rotted out boat?) came into view down the beach, and the pup darted off to sniff around the odd feature, digging frantically here, and reaching as high as it could to sniff a board there. Eric sat on a bit of stone, just barely dry enough to not soak through his tattered robes, and watched the hellpup's odd behavior. 

It had been nagging at the back of his mind as they went along, but he hadn't wanted to accept what he'd been realizing. Doing so made his job a lot… harder, in a way it shouldn't be for a demon. This hellhound was different. He had begun to notice when it made no attempts to kill him when he carried it out of hell (aside from tasting his chin a few times), and had happily accepted the petting hands of a human who had made to greet it at a crosswalk. The pup's most violent act so far had been chomping a butterfly out of the air. This hellhound didn't belong in Hell. That's why he had been tasked with destroying it. It was disposable, like… like him. That's why  _ he _ had been tasked with destroying it. If the hellhound's instinct to rend and kill had awoken while Eric had it up here to destroy it, he was just one less disposable demon. He was disposable and the hellhound was disposable and he was supposed to kill it and go back down to Hell where he would be disposed of as well eventually and he looked up at the hellpup trotting over with a stick in its mouth and down at the knife he had manifested in his hand and he couldn't do it. He couldn't do it. He couldn't… couldn't… couldn't  _ breathe _ . 

Suddenly the serenity of the beach was too much, the slowly clearing sky too open. Eric's arms began to shake, so he tucked them close to himself to try to stop the trembling, but it was no use. He laid back on the stone surface and closed his eyes and tried to push the panic from his mind, but he was too exposed, too much, too- 

Out of nowhere, there was a weight on his chest. It felt… grounding. Secure. Like he had been about to be sucked off into the stratosphere one moment and the next he was weighed down, his trembling arms pressed securely to his chest. The weight pressed on his lungs, making long slow breathes easier than the short, shallow racing breathes he hadn't noticed he'd fallen into. Eric had… really no idea how much time had passed, when his mind finally cleared, and gave him back control of his faculties. The weight on his chest wiggled. Several seconds of wondering what the weight could be passed before he realized he could just. Look. 

And so he did. 

It was the hellpup. Eric had a moment where the thought that he really should be frightened at this development passed through his mind, but he was able to dismiss the thought with… unusual ease. The hellpup was pressing its chin and forelegs on his chest, the rest of its body lying along the length of his. Eric couldn't begin to fathom why the hellpup had done it, or why it had worked, but the weight of the pup had centered him in his corporation while the anxiety flooded his mind and had helped to bring him back to himself. Eric sat up slowly, dislodging the pup from his chest, though it only slid as far as his lap. 

He knew now, even more certainly than before, that he could not kill this pup. 

But sure as the legions of hell saw him as useless, Eric could not return to hell with this pup in tow and he couldn't just… leave it here, right? He needed help. With his senses returned to normal, Eric looked around himself. He looked over the river (was it a lake, now? an ocean? he wasn't sure), over the pebbly beach, the hollowed out skeleton of a ship, the marshy grass behind. He looked at the hound, still splayed across his lap. Its tall, pointed ears were relaxed, giving it a goofy expression, and Eric found he couldn't help but smile. Which was really quite a strange feeling, because usually he might smile at one of his own brave attempts at a joke (less so these days, in the weeks following Armageddon't. Seeing Hastur dust both of his available copies put a damper on the comedy thing), or while reading one of the demon Crowley's reports (for some reason his handwriting and sentence structure would occasionally change just a bit, which Eric found odd but unconcerning. He mostly cared about the tidbits of information about the world above), but not from just looking at an animal, and  _ never _ from looking at a hellhound of all things. 

Sitting there on the rock, the hellpup squirming about on its back and splaying its rather large paws into the air, Eric came to the terrifying conclusion that he needed help, and that there was only one place he could go for that help. 

He just hoped he'd be able to get a word in edgewise before getting discorporated, or worse. After all, the demon he needed to seek out was the only demon in all of time to ever use holy water on another demon. 


	2. One demon's trash,

Eric approached the door to the Mayfair flat with trepidation. 

The well-lit elevator with functional buttons and soft unobtrusive music was a far cry from the one he took out of Hell, but it was still ominous in that way all elevators are, and Eric felt pressed from all sides on the ride up. But the hellpup was leaning heavily against his legs, which was a … a nice distraction, easily. 

He had seen some humans walking with dogs on the way here, and paid close attention to their interactions. He had watched several of them stroke their dog's head, or scratch behind ears, or slap their dogs softly on the sides. He wasn't sure what any of that was about, but the dogs had seemed pleased with the interaction. Eric wondered if his hellpup would feel the same? Experimentally, he placed a hand on top of the pup's head and brushed it along in the direction its hair grew, and was surprised to feel the denizen of hell lean into the touch. He tried it again, then once more, and before he realized it the elevator dinged his arrival to the top floor. He even jumped when the doors opened, having all but fallen into a trance petting the pup's surprisingly soft fur. 

"Right. Come on, uh, hellhound." 

He took a deep breath, then several more before stepping out of the elevator which had politely kept its doors open until the demon and his hellhound disembarked. As he approached the door with the number that matched up to all of the demon Crowley's hellish reports Eric had the realization that he may not actually live here anymore, given recent events and intrusions, or that he may have never lived here at all, simply having used the address as a cover. This of course causes a whole slew of doubtful thoughts, resulting in Eric pacing up and down the hall in front of the door, unsure of how to proceed. If he knocks on that door and someone other than Crowley answers, he's quite certain he'll discorporate from a combination of embarrassment and uncertainty of how to proceed. The hellpup simply trotted alongside, stumbling over its own legs a few times in its attempt to keep up with Eric's frantic turns. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your perspective and Eric's skyrocketing panic did not feel fortunate, the decision was taken out of his hands when the door opened of its own volition. And oh, if the universe was trying to cause Eric to discorporate from the sheer weight of his own anxiety, it was doing a good job of it by revealing the angel on the other side of that accursed door. The  _ angel _ . The angel Eric had asked and received permission to hit when he was tasked with delivering the hellfire to Heaven for his destruction. The angel who, at the brink of his own utter demolition, had looked at Eric, terrifyingly calm, and smiled. 

The angel's expression was gravely serious now, but that was no comfort, and Eric found he had shrunk into himself in fright, pressed against the wall opposite the door, swallowing rapidly as he attempted to come up with something, anything to say that might save him from the smiting he just knew was coming his way. 

"Ah. Done wearing a valley into the floor, then?" the angel asked, and all Eric could do was nod hurriedly. "Very good. Are you here with intentions to threaten, imperil, assault, or otherwise harm Crowley?" Another hurried shake of the head, this time in the negative. "Wonderful. In that case, wait here for just a moment." The door closed, and Eric nearly collapsed to the floor from the weight of his relief. The angel's apparent congeniality was far more frightening than the subtle menace of the smile he'd seen on his face in Heaven. 

When the door opened again, it revealed both the angel who withstood hellfire, and the demon who withstood holy water. Eric felt very, very small in the presence of them both, but before he knew it Crowley was talking to him, casual and relaxed, like he wasn't one of the most terrifying demons in creation. 

"Eric! Can I still call you Eric?" he asked as he approached, earning a quick nod. "Good, good, never liked that whole 'disposable' thing, anyway, how are you? What are you doing here, well, on Earth and also at my flat? Aziraphale says you're not here to threaten, so…?" he trailed off, standing beside the shorter demon as Aziraphale stepped into the hall to let the door close behind him. 

Eric looked quickly between the two of them, then down at his hellpup, then up and down the hallway as though checking for prying eyes or ears. When he spoke, it was in a choked whisper, just loud enough for both Crowley and Aziraphale to hear. 

"I need help," he said, and flinched even as the words left his mouth, like he was expecting a mote of hellfire to spring up from the floor and drag him back down below to be punished. "I don't want- that is, I couldn't-" he took a deep breath, and let it out tremulously. "They said to kill it. I was supposed to take it up and kill it, and go back down. No problem, right? But- I don't know, I took it out of the city, down the river, to that cliffe pool place and I just couldn't and I don't want to go back either, and I'm definitely not immune to holy water like you are and they will definitely not just let me go, and-" 

"Whoa, whoa, right, slow down. I think I got most of that, but what were you supposed to kill?" Crowley asked, holding up both hands as though attempting to calm a frightened horse. 

"Oh, um" Eric looked between them again, then down at the hellpup before pointing to it. "This," he said, "little hellhound pup. I think maybe they figured either I kill it or it kills me or we kill each other and whatever the case they're free of one or more useless demons." Crowley did a double take between the hellpup and Eric, eyebrows knitting closer together as he spoke. 

Several moments of silence stretched out between the gathering of nonhuman entities, Crowley seeming to be doing several equations in his mind and not enjoying the outcomes of any of them. He finally shot Aziraphale a look that must have contained an unspoken question, because the angel shrugged as though in answer, and said "I'll follow your lead, my dear." Eric had the distinct realization that Crowley's famed adversary, as mentioned in so many reports, may be of a slightly different relationship than he'd been led to believe, but. Was that even possible? Crowley was a demon, he couldn't… then again, Eric was here because of some very undemonic behavior of his own, so maybe… maybe he had a lot more questions than he originally thought. 

"You, inside," Crowley said, turning back to Eric. "You can bring the little helly hell.. puppy.. whatever. Try not to let it drool on the furniture." he said with a disgust that didn't seem entirely genuine. 

Aziraphale turned and opened the door, stepping inside and holding it open for the rest of them to proceed through. Crowley led the small group to the living room and gestured to a chair as he turned to speak to Eric. 

"Have a seat, and give us a moment. This is unexpected, whatever it is." 

Eric nodded and mumbled a quiet "okay" before wandering towards the indicated chair as Crowley and Aziraphale walked into another part of the flat. He eyed the chair, but opted to sit on the floor in front of it so the hellpup could lay across his legs again. He wasn't sure what drool was, but he figured it was best not to risk it. Without even really thinking about it, he wrapped both arms around the pup and held it close to his chest. This didn't seem to bother the pup, who laid its head on his shoulder and heaved a huge, sleepy sigh directly into his ear. 

~*~

Crowley and Aziraphale stepped out of the room, down the hall, and into Crowley's elaborate office. Eric probably wouldn't try to listen in, and they surely wouldn't be saying anything upsetting, but Crowley had seen enough romcoms and sitcoms with deliberate, overdone miscommunication plots to take that kind of risk. 

"Well," Aziraphale started, alternating between twisting the ring on his right hand and the one on his left. "I did suspect we would be seeing defectors eventually, but I didn't expect it would be so soon. It hasn't even been a year, yet." 

"Yeah, can't say I'm surprised it's him, though," Crowley said. 

Aziraphale raised a curious brow. "Oh?" 

Crowley nodded and shoved both hands into his pockets as he answered, a faint blush creeping onto his face, knowing how Aziraphale would react. "Don't think he's had much surface time, but I made him file my reports a lot. Kept him bored out of his mind, but you know, if he was busy doing that he wasn't getting fed to hellhounds.

Predictably, Aziraphale smiled broadly. 

"You were protecting him." 

"Come off it. Had to have some allies down there, didn't I? Anyway, it's still Hell, I'm sure he was bored to tears." 

Aziraphale stepped closer and pulled Crowley down to place a kiss at the corner of his mouth. "My wicked, clever demon," he whispered, and Crowley's blush spread across the rest of his face and down his neck, and curled prettily over the tops of his ears. "What do you suppose we should do, then? We could put him up here and just stay at the bookshop for a little while, but he will be needing his own space soon. And he will need to learn to, well, naturalize as it were." 

Crowley leaned into the contact, giving up on his token protest of Aziraphale's praise for now. 

"Last bit's gonna take some doing. We'll have to show him around, explain things as they happen, I think. I can get him a flat easy enough, probably somewhere between here and the bookshop you think? In case he needs to find us quickly once he's settled," he said, by now his head fully resting on Aziraphale's shoulder, his nose tucked under his angel's ear and voice soft. 

"I think that all sounds doable," Aziraphale replied just as softly, one hand holding the back of Crowley's neck, the other taking his hand to entwine their fingers. "Should we start with some basic concepts? Crossing the street, ordering food, personal space?" 

"Mmh, don't think space'll be an issue. Don't see many touchy-feely demons." 

"Certainly not," Aziraphale said, very aware that he was supporting about half of Crowley's weight while maintaining full body contact from their knees up. "How about we talk about the very basics here, then take a nice walk down the street to that deli we've been meaning to try? They allow dogs on the patio. Then we can go to the park? Though I am a bit concerned that the hellhound may have an epiphany as to its purpose while we are out on the town." 

"Good point, maybe an angelically manifested leash and collar should be step one." 

"We already have several-" Aziraphale was cut off by Crowley's indignant sputter. 

"Those are mine!" he said, pulling back from the angel's shoulder so he could glare properly. 

"Oh, as if I couldn't make you more, but very well," he said, flicking his wrist down as he snapped, a soft leather leash and infinitely adjustable rolled leather collar appearing in his hand. The angelic nature of the firmament-summoned material made it difficult, though not impossible, to be broken by demonic means. "I suppose we shouldn't keep him waiting much longer." 

"Hey,  _ he _ interrupted  _ us _ . And by the way, next time we sense a demonic  _ or _ angelic presence at the door, you will untie me before going to see who it is."

Aziraphale merely gave Crowley a look he couldn't quite interpret and straightened his bowtie as he stepped around him to return to their surprise guest. Crowley attempted a growl as he made to follow, though it barely counted as a grumble. 

When they got back to the living room, however, they were greeted by the sight of Eric and his hellpup, fast asleep, Eric's head leaned back on the seat of the chair in such a way that would definitely be uncomfortable when he woke up. A pillow appeared under his head, propping it up a bit better. Crowley and Aziraphale shared a look of questioning. One more little miracle to remain a mystery between them. 


	3. Ba'al

When Eric woke, he was confused, to say the least. Sleeping for the first time does tend to do that, though only two other beings really know that. Fortunately, those two beings were both here in the room, apparently content to go about their day while they waited for their dozing visitor to wake. Eric blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog and process the sight in front of him. Aziraphale sat at one end of the couch across from the bunny eared demon, occasionally flipping the pages of an object (scroll? no- a book! Yes, Crowley's reports had mentioned those occasionally) while Crowley was laid out across the length of the couch, his head resting on the angel's lap as he tapped away idly on his smartphone. 

They looked… so relaxed. Content, even. Eric struggled to wrap his head around the very concepts. 

It was Crowley who noticed his wakefulness first, of course. Aziraphale would remain absorbed in his book for several more moments. 

"Oh, lookie here. Have a good nap, Briar Rose?" Crowley asked, not moving from his position just yet. 

"You're one to talk," Aziraphale muttered. He did not look up from his book. Not yet. 

"I… suppose?" Eric asked, still muddled. "Is that what that was? A "nap?" Why did that happen?" 

Crowley blinked at the rapid fire questions, then sat up. Apparently this discussion would require him to slouch rather than recline. 

"Never slept at all, then, I take it. In that case, lesson one of being a denizen of Earth is sleeping. Humans do it a lot. Usually every night. We are able, but we don't have to. Took me a bit of effort the first few times. Aziraphale still hasn't got the hang of it, but he's only napped three times in six millennia."

"Four, dear," Aziraphale corrected, placing a strip of something between the pages of his book and setting it aside. Crowley looked aghast, efficiently distracted for the moment from his lecture. 

"Four? What? When have you slept without me around?" he asked. Eric's mind was doing some intricate calculations on that one. The angel only slept when his hereditary enemy was at hand? 

"Last week. You had me quite pinned to the couch with your own nap, and I had finished my book. Seemed the thing to do," Aziraphale answered. Right. Eric's mind finally settled down from attempting advanced trigonometry. Aziraphale was most certainly not Crowley's enemy. He needed another moment to actually place the word for it, but he finally settled on the word  _ friend _ . Though he was getting the impression there was something else here; not more than friendship, but rather to the left of it. Eventually, Crowley got over gaping indignantly at Aziraphale and returned his attention to Eric. 

" _ Anyway _ . Sleeping. Usually takes a bit of effort at first, but you have apparently taken your first taste of it by accident. How did it feel?" 

"Um. Confusing? I was in sort of a- a fog when I came to. Didn't like that. But I felt so tired before and now that the confusion is gone I feel more alert?" he finished nearly every statement like it was a question, like he wasn't sure he could, or was allowed to, trust his own perceptions. "Do I have to do that, now?" he asked. Crowley suppressed a frown. 

"Not likely. You can if you want to, but it's not a requirement. You probably just had a lot of, you know," he waved his hand about, evidently intending to imply something with a gesture that was entirely lost on Eric. 

"Anxiety?" Aziraphale offered quietly. Crowley's attention snapped to the angel, and his face reddened just a bit. 

"Er, yeah. Anxiety," he nodded, attention returning to Eric. "I always end up wanting a nap after I've been stressing for a long time. S'not everyone's solution, though. Angel here just makes a bigger mess of his shop when he's out of sorts." 

"I most certainly do not," the angel in question interjected again, though the protest seemed weak. 

"You're a right tornado is what you are," Crowley told him with a grin that Eric somehow understood could only be described as  _ fond _ . He wasn't even sure how he remembered that word; probably hadn't thought of it since before the Fall. Crowley's eyes found Eric's again, and the shorter demon realized something he really should have caught sooner. Crowley didn't have his sunglasses on. Eric had almost never seen him without them, not since things of the sort had been invented. "Right, so, Eric. Maybe we come back to the complexities of psychological trauma later. I know someone who can help. Or she can at least recommend someone." 

"Yes, I suppose we would best leave the psychiatry to Doctor Thyme for now," Aziraphale agreed, taking one of Crowley's hands and folding it between two of his own. "Eric, have you been up to Earth many times before this?" he asked, turning his full attention onto the fresh defector. Eric wondered at how the angel's attention immediately made him feel just a bit safer, as though he was protected in his presence. In contrast to the utter petrification he felt upon first seeing Aziraphale answer the door, he wondered if this must be some angelic power, to sway unwary demons into a false sense of security. He reminded himself not to let his guard down. These two may be his only option, but that didn't mean he should just go around trusting them. Oh, right, the angel had asked a question. 

"No. Well, not many times. A few?" he hugged the still snoozing hellpup closer, prompting its tail to flop lazily on the floor in front of him. "I was up here for Armageddon, at Megiddo. And in Egypt a while back, just before the plagues started. There were a few more times, unofficially," he paused, glancing at Crowley. "Your reports were exciting. I'd come up a decade or so after you'd finished with an area sometimes to see if I could watch some of the fun up close." 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley and seemed like he was about to say something incredibly fond, so Crowley cut him off abruptly, face tinged red once again. 

"Yep, reports, right,  **_point being_ ** ! You really don't know anything about local customs, traffic laws, none of that, am I right?" Eric nodded. Crowley looked at Aziraphale and shrugged. "Blank slate, then, really." Aziraphale seemed to ponder this for several moments, his brows drawn tight together and his lips pursing in a frown. Then, he nodded. 

"Well, then, Eric. What would you say to lunch?" 

"What's 'lunch?'" he asked, to which Aziraphale responded only with a smile that seemed like it really ought to be causing Eric's demonic form physical harm. 

"Oh, we definitely have to take you to the deli down the street. I told Crowley earlier, it would be a good place to start. You see, lunch is one of the three regular meals that humans are supposed to eat each day. Of course, few actually do, poor dears, but I think you may find it's quite enjoyable even though we don't need it. And I've heard this has sandwiches that are just div- er, delightful. And they have outdoor seating, so your dog can come along without issue." 

Eric frowned at the last bit. "Why would there be an issue?" he asked, looking between the two entities on the couch. 

"Well, humans've got laws and health codes and such, yeah? Most of the time you can't bring a dog inside a store, 'specially if there's food being sold. But we can avoid those for now, though," Crowley said, then leaned forward and grabbed some long leather straps off the coffee table. "You'll want to use this, though. 's a leash and collar. Humans get uncomfortable about dogs going around without them on." 

Eric took the offered items and examined them for a moment. He tested the strength of the leather with a tug on either end of the leash, and was surprised by its durability. 

"That's, ah, angel summoned leather. So, won't break easily under demon strength. You know, in case little hellything decides a human or another dog or something looks like a good snack. It's not indestructible, though, so if it does get feisty let me or Aziraphale know immediately." 

"I don't… I don't think it'll be a problem," he said, though he fitted the collar to the pup's neck as he spoke. He had some trouble with it, as the pup was desperately trying to sniff the collar and watch what Eric was doing with it, which proved to be quite a wiggly experience. When Aziraphale spoke up, it was with the distinct impression to his voice that he was trying not to laugh. 

"Does it have a name?" he asked. 

"No. I guess I should give it one, yeah? Crowley gave me a name, seems only fair I pass along the favor," he said, holding the hellpup's long nose in his hands and looking it in the eyes as he thought it over. Aziraphale looked to Crowley for explanation, but Crowley waved his hand about as though waving away a bad smell. Aziraphale had come to understand this gesture to mean 'later.' They both looked to Eric, who eventually spoke up to declare "I think I'll call her Ba'al. And I think she wants to be called she." 

"I think that sounds lovely, don't you?" he asked, turning to his partner, who he caught smiling softly at Eric and Ba'al. He nudged his arm softly with an elbow. 

"Hm? Yeah! Great! Perfect! Ba'al the hellhound. Let's go," he said, and leapt to his feet to go grab their coats. "Come along angel, Eric, Ba'al, let's see how many social norms we can break without trying." 


	4. Sometimes a breakdown is a breakthrough

The elevator ride down to street level had been uneventful, as had the walk through the lavish complex's entryway. When they stepped out onto the street, Eric following the two veteran Earth-goers like Ba'al followed him, Aziraphale and Crowley had taken up positions on either side of him to walk along the street, bracketing him in like bookends or a security detail. Ba'al trotted along behind them, her leash all but an afterthought except for Eric's worrying away at the handle. 

"Now, one of the best things you can learn is that, all of these people?" Crowley gestured widely as they walked, indicating literally everyone, "None of them have any idea what they're doing either. That's the big secret. Especially the young adults, they're all pretending. Get to know enough humans over enough of their lifetimes and you'll realize that too, but this is a crash course, so, cheat codes." 

"Oh, I don't know that we should call it  _ cheating _ , my dear. More of a necessary headstart?" Aziraphale interrupted, a deep crease forming between his brows. 

"Oi, when one of your former allies decides to join Our Side, we'll call it whatever soft lovey thing makes them comfortable, but this is Intro To Earth Customs: Demon Edition. It's gotta be demon flavored, right Eric?" 

Eric looked quickly between the two of them, seeming uncertain if his input was actually wanted. 

"Er," he started, flinching at the sound of his own voice, half expecting a reprimand for speaking. "I suppose that.. makes sense?" He paused, looking between them anxiously. "Do you, um, expect more?" he asked, voice shaky. 

"I suppose it was more of a  _ vague hope _ until you showed up yesterday," Aziraphale answered. "We…" he looked across to Crowley, who gave a nod that somehow also looked like a shrug. "We suspect there will be another attempt at armageddon, down the line. Likely not for another few hundred or even thousand years, but our  _ hope _ is that enough from both Heaven and Hell will defect, and come to love Earth and the humans as we do, and help us in defending it when both sides attempt to destroy it yet again." 

Eric watched his feet as they walked, a frown of concentration pulling at the corners of his mouth as he processed it all. It made sense, he supposed. There certainly had been more of an air of  _ not yet, actually _ in Hell, rather than a  _ nevermind _ . He was still working his way through the logistics of how many defectors would be needed when the concrete dropped off a step. Without breaking his stride he made to step down the short cliff, only to have both his arms grabbed and be yanked back, just as a very large vehicle blew through the spot he'd been about to occupy. It was startling on all sides, to say the least. 

"Oh dear, are you quite alright?" Aziraphale blustered, as Crowley looked embarrassed, saying "Oh, right, yeah, we were supposed to talk about traffic safety  _ before _ we left; how did you survive walking around London unchecked yesterday?"* 

*(Cue comedic flashback to Eric walking cluelessly through London, being narrowly missed by vehicles, falling air con units, and various other realistic and unrealistic big city dangers) 

Eric looked rapidly between the two of them, then into the rushing traffic, still processing how close he'd just come to a  **very** inconvenient discorporation. He shrugged, genuinely unsure how to answer. 

"Well, it does tend to vary on location," Aziraphale began as they waited for the traffic signals to change, "for instance in Soho, around the bookshop, it's really quite easy to walk around unhindered. Most drivers are quite happy to stop and let anyone pass, but here in Mayfair you really must look both ways and keep an eye on the traffic signals. One can of course employ the use of miracles when one needn't be bothered by such things, but it's really best to try to blend in a bit," he finished, a self-satisfied smile decorating his face as he explained. 

"Now hold on angel, don't go telling him that. Soho drivers always stop for you because of your resident… angelic… thingie, if Eric or I take up jaywalking we're as likely to get flattened as anyone." 

The signal changed, allowing them to walk again, and this time Aziraphale put a hand lightly on Eric's elbow. The touch startled him at first, but after processing that the angel didn't have violent intent, and that the gesture was in fact  _ protective  _ (not something a demon is accustomed to, least of all one so popular as cannon fodder), he relaxed and found the point of contact surprisingly grounding. 

With only slight miraculous intervention, the trio-plus-dog made it the next few streets down to the little cafe without further incident. Aziraphale directed Eric and Ba'al to a table off in the corner of the patio where they could talk without interruption but while still having a good view of the rest of the cafe and street for people watching, while Crowley stepped inside to place their orders. Eric watched as Aziraphale picked up a napkin and placed it delicately in his lap. He picked up his own napkin, preparing to do the same. 

"I'm really quite excited for you, trying food for the first time. It's one of the better things about living amongst them, in my opinion," Aziraphale said, leading into a nice long ramble about the various kinds of foods available, region to region. Not much of it really made any sense to Eric, but Aziraphale's easy demeanor as he chattered on gave him something to focus on, on and off, while he watched the humans around them just existing as though four supernatural creatures weren't seated among them. Only a few of the humans were using their napkins the way the Senior Human Analyst Angel was. He set the napkin down. 

Crowley returned shortly, and Eric watched him carefully as he situated himself in his chair; he wasn't sure  _ sitting _ was a word he could apply to what the Senior Human Analyst Demon was doing to the piece of furniture. Crowley didn't acknowledge his own napkin. Eric felt a touch of relief. Napkin was optional then, maybe. 

His mentors argued briefly over which was more pressing a skill to teach him: how to purge alcohol from one's system, or how to alleviate oneself from a hangover. Eric listened, really more interested in the format of their disagreement than the actual outcome. For starters, neither of them had yet drawn a weapon. It was as though they were both… willing to hear each others' input and opinions? The argument even concluded without a determined winner; they both agreed it was a moot point until they gave Eric the opportunity to decide if he even liked alcohol enough to get drunk in the first place. 

It was… strange, sitting here listening to their easy banter. Love wasn't a concept Eric had allowed himself to even think about in several millennia, but it was obviously present between the two of them. He actually found himself a bit shaken by it; the last time he had actually  _ felt _ love had been before the Fall, but he didn't need angelic senses to see it flowing freely between them. 

He was still sorting that revelation out when a human came out to their table with a tray heaped in food. 

"Hello loves," she said, as she began setting plates down in front of each of the attending celestials. "Are we all having a nice day? Looking forward to the weekend?" she asked. Aziraphale clapped his hands together once in delighted anticipation. 

"Oh, yes, it's promising to be quite an experience," Aziraphale answered, wiggling in his seat as he spoke. "How about you, dear? Any plans, or will you be working for most of it?" The waitress seemed surprised to have been asked in return, and flustered for a moment. Eric wondered if it was really the question that flustered her, or the mere presence of the disturbingly kind man-shaped being doing the asking. He decided it was probably both. 

"Oh! Er, just working I'm afraid," she finally answered as she placed one more plate on the table. "And of course, a doggie bowl for your furry friend!" she said, turning to place a bowl of water and a dish with some meat scraps in it in front of Ba'al. She seemed much more comfortable addressing the hellhound. How odd. "Could I pet her?" she asked, addressing Eric directly for the first time. He wondered why she was asking him rather than Ba'al. 

"Um," he started, unsure how to proceed. "I suppose if that's, alright with her. Do you want the hu- er, do you want to be petted, Ba'al?" he asked. Ba'al looked at him, head tilted in confusion. Well. Apparently he was getting no answers from the hellpup. "Yeah, okay, go ahead," he answered, and the waitress did so with unrestrained glee, before thanking Eric and Ba'al, and letting the table know she'd be back soon to check on them before walking away to tend the rest of her tables. 

"Oh, my dear, that was so good of you to ensure Ba'al had something to snack on, as well," Aziraphale said quietly, directing a soft smile to Crowley, whose face took on a rosy hue. 

"Wot? Nahhgh, don't be ridiculous, I didn't- s'probably just, y'know, something they do. Automatically. For all dogs. Anyway, why don't you tell Eric about all these sandwiches we've got here," he redirected, gesturing to the collection of plates and their contents, each sandwich having been cut into several smaller samplings. 

Naturally, Aziraphale had no hesitations there. Each sandwich was split up between Eric and Aziraphale, with Ba'al being the lucky destination for any piece Eric tried and didn't like, and Crowely nabbed sections from a couple of the plates. 

By the time they finished their brief culinary introduction, Eric had concluded that he quite liked foods that were spicy, disliked onions, and that Ba'al would eat anything she was offered, without hesitation. 

During the meal, Aziraphale and Crowley (mostly Crowley, though) took turns explaining earthen dangers to look out for in the city to avoid discorporation. They covered foot traffic hazards such as the bus from earlier, staying aware of surroundings, muggers, and so on. When the lot of them had finished eating, and the Ineffable duo felt they'd rather well covered everything they could think of, they set off towards St. James park. 

This park was worlds different from the one he and Ba'al had happened upon before. There were people everywhere, many walking their dogs, some hiding away under the shade of trees. Eric's unlikely duo of mentors were feeding sliced grapes to the gathering of waterfowl when the afternoon took an unfortunate turn. 

It happened in an instant, and none of them could have predicted it. One of the more aggressive geese had approached the black swan and quite viciously grabbed onto its long neck, seemingly without any cause at all. The swan honked and flailed, drawing the attention of its white feathered mate, who attacked the offending goose with unrestrained avian fury. It was a brief and cacophonous scene that may have been a little upsetting at best to the average park goer, but the sudden burst of loud, angry noises caught Eric by surprise. He startled, jumping back from the noise and falling onto his butt. At first, neither of his new friends really noticed anything was wrong, but Ba'al was on his lap in an instant, pushing him onto his back and pressing her weight onto his chest as she had done before. As suddenly as a quick squabble among greedy birds, Eric's peace had been shattered, and now with help from Ba'al's grounding weight he found himself fighting to regain control of his breathing and his racing mind. 

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said, finally processing what was happening, and drawing Crowley's attention with the expletive. He dithered, unsure how to proceed from this side of things while Crowley whispered  _ fuck _ and jumped into action immediately, kneeling at Eric's side and speaking softly. 

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. Has this happened before?" he asked. Eric gave a sharp nod. "Alright, do you know what you need?" Eric hesitated, then shook his head. "That's fine, that's okay, can I take your hand? It helps angel, might help you too?" Eric hesitated slightly longer, but released one hand from the grip he had around Ba'al to reach over to Crowley, who took it gently in both of his. "Alright, I'm gonna ask you to count backwards from ten with me, can you do that?" he asked, and a long moment passed before Eric finally nodded. "Alright, count along with me, okay?" he said, then guided him down from ten. By the time they got to three his breathing had slowed to a normal pace, and as they both said one in  _ unison _ , Eric had returned to petting Ba'al with his free hand. After a few moments of soft silence, Eric took a deep breath and let it out slowly, glad to have only a slight shudder as it escaped. 

"S- sorry," he said, sitting up slowly as Ba'al scooted off his chest and more into his lap. "I didn't, I mean, I don't know why that happens," he said, voice small, fearing reprimand. 

"Hey, no apologies, Eric," Crowley said, releasing Eric's hand so he could return it to the employ of hugging Ba'al. "This is… well, I'll call my therapist tonight and get you someone to tall to who knows their stuff. It may be hard, but, well," he waffled, apparently coming to the end of his font of emotional honesty for the day. He looked to Aziraphale for help, and the angel knelt down with them, finally feeling he knew how to help. 

"What I think Crowley is trying to say, Eric, is I don't think any of us, Crowley, you, myself, or any of our future allies, are going to be able to recover from what we've experienced, above or below, without a bit of help, though," he smiled at Ba'al, now happily relaxed while playfully and gently biting at Eric's fingers as he wiggled them in front of her face, "it seems you've already got a wonderful helper here to get you started. Isn't she acting quite like a service dog, Crowley?" He said, looking to his partner, then back to Eric. "Perhaps she could he registered, if you're comfortable with that, then you would be able to bring her with you everywhere, provided she passes the requisite tests." 

Eric wasn't positive what all that meant, but felt confident his new friends (friends‽) would explain when he asked. As it stood, he was certain he didn't want to be without Ba'al. So far, she had been a crucial lifeline during both of these anxiety attacks (as Aziraphale would soon describe them) and he shuddered at the idea of having one without her nearby to ground him. He nodded.

"Yeah, that sounds good," he said at last. After a few more moments of resting, Aziraphale and Crowley each offered him a hand to stand back up, so he took both, and they continued their walk through St James park. As the sun began to set, the group of them returned to Crowley's Mayfair flat; Crowey set him up in a room Eric wasn't certain had existed that morning with a bed to sleep in if he chose, and some electronics to play with if he didn't. They both bid him goodnight and promised to wake him whenever the two of them got up, and he watched as both disappeared into a room at the other end of the hall together. 

"I'm not sure what the future's got for you an' me, Ba'al," Eric said, turning in to _his room_ , "but I think we're gonna be alright with them two helping us," he added, earning the response of a wagging tail. Eric briefly considered the electronics, but he found the idea of sleeping actually sounded rather appealing after the long day, so he laid down to sleep on the huge bed with Ba'al curled up against his back; both being found their dreams full of whatever they liked best, which was really rather new for them both. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, sorry this was so short and also took so long. For a variety of reasons, I had a really hard time with making this chapter work. Here's hoping for more expedience in the future~<3 
> 
> I've really treasured all the comments this fic has gotten so far. I'm terrible at responding to comments individually, but PLEASE know I really do appreciate every single one.


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